Kaleidoscope
by To think To link To sing
Summary: Colors reign in this world. When light filters through the kaleidoscope, myriad memories, thoughts, and emotions spill out in the sea of colors. And the colors meet, in a frenzied, dazzling rainbow, merging and melding together.
1. Prologue:Father

Rain was drumming softly against the tin windows. I was serving customers when I recognized the sound of rain, the melody of bittersweet memories. The customers, puzzled by my sudden lack of smile, inquired me. I hastily smiled back, and requested a moment of silence. Misuzu-san took my place as I trudged outside.

When it rains, the sky relinquishes time. The tone gray, surpassing all time, covers the horizon as rain showers down. Timeless coolness, timeless drips of memories covered my clothing.

It had been nearly 3 years since I walked in the rain.

My dress was soaked, and I wondered when I would fully forget the memories in the rain. Never, I believed.

_

* * *

"Hmm, I think we should have a celebration today," Fujioka Kotoko said brightly._

_ "Why?" I was wearing a suit then, both exhausted and amused. We were sitting in the living room around the kotatsu. The four year old Haruhi was sleeping inside the covers._

_ "You should know," she chuckled, her brown eyes staring into mine as always. I sincerely wished that Haruhi would inherit her habit of looking into others' eyes. _

_ "What, did you win in an important case?" I muttered casually, stretching back. The rain releases one's fatigue, I realized. _

_ "Well, that's something that always happens," Kotoko answered._

_ "It wouldn't hurt to be modest," I groaned. _

_ "Well, guess again!" _

_ She was watching me with the expression that she always makes when she is hiding a surprise for me. I gazed in silence, patting Haruhi's head. _

_ "Hmm, I don't know…"_

_ "That's a disappointment. Today," she leaned closer, "is our anniversary."_

"_Huh?" I jumped in surprise, nearly waking Haruhi. Both of us froze in silence, watching our child shuffle in her sleep, and then sighed in relief. "But our wedding anniversary was just 4 weeks ago!"_

_ "No, not that," she sighed. "It is the first day we met. And," she pointed outside the window meaningfully. _

_ "Ah," I realized. "It's raining."_

_ "Exactly."_

_ The fall rain was dripping outside, trickles of water trailing down the window._

_ "Like that day, too." She smiled, and held my hand gently. "The rain holds many memories for us, doesn't it?"_

_ "Perhaps." I sighed. It was typical of Kotoko, celebrating the most mundane of the events. When I expressed that thought, I earned a smack._

_ "There's nothing mundane about today!"_

_ "Your memory astounds me, Kotoko."_

_ "Are you implying that you forgot about that day?" Her temper was gaining momentum. _

_ "No." I hastily replied._

_ "How could I? Your first impression was—quite memorable, at the least."_

_ "Oh, were you astounded by my beauty?"_

_ "No, but you must admit. Having an empty soup can on your head on a raining day would leave a rather strong impression in your mind."_

_ "It was raining, and I needed something to cover myself with, that's all." She blushed._

_ "Oh, and you chose an empty soup can. Of course, why not a newspaper? You always carry them around yourself."_

_ "I had not!" She seemed to struggle with her words, and then replied hesitantly. "I started to carry newspapers around me after we met."_

_ "Why?" The information was quite interesting. The meticulous way of Kotoko jotting the cases down on her newspaper was one of the most glaring images that I had of her._

_ "We-well, you said the exact same thing that day, and I took your advice, that's all."_

_ "Hmm, is that all?"_

_ "Yes, unfortunately, that's all."_

_ We sat in silence for a moment, both of us watching Haruhi sleep. She was smiling gently, her cheeks moving slowly. She was chewing something in her sleep. What was she dreaming?"_

_ "Ootoro…" she whispered, and then smiled. Her cheeks were blushed as she dreamed. Kotoko and I stifled our laughter._

_ "So, what were you planning for the anniversary?" I whispered. Kotoko smiled at me. She took three dishes out of the bag. It was sushi._

_ "I bought sushi with some ootoro, for Haruhi only. It did cost a fortune." She scowled good naturedly, and then opened them. _

_ "No ootoro for me?" I pouted._

_ "Nope, none for you. But," she kissed my cheek. "you have me. Satisfied?"_

_ "I would prefer ootoro, though."_

_ Kotoko nearly woke our daughter again by demonstrating her incredibly powerful kick._

_ "We should wake her up, anyways." She hastily replied._

_ The three of us ate together, the room full of pleasant conversation. Never was the house silent, always buzzing with warm conversations and laughter.

* * *

_

_ The rain was silent. _

_I stood in silence in the hospital, my lips frozen in shock. It could not be-_

_The doctor shook his head, and then walked away. Several nurses were surrounding Kotoko, shrouding her features with a white cloth. It was an image seen in myriad movies, so cliche, yet haunting. Her fists were loosely sprawled at her side, strengthless and limp. A marionette with its strings cut-her fleeting, ghostly last smile was on her face. _

_Lightening struck outside, and I could not hear its rumble, deaf with blind realization. I was warned of this constantly, mostly from my wife, but had ignored them. _

_She was dead._

_The word was rough, harsh in my lips. Lightening struck again, and rain was splattering outside. It was cruel beyond expression, how I found her and lost her in the rain. _

_Thunder rumbled through the icy panes of the hospital, and I remembered with a start-Haruhi._

_She was staying with me few minutes ago, and she was now missing._

_I rushed around the corridor. The empty wards shone with blue, eerie shine as white daggers of light struck from the sky. My breath grew rugged as I screamed, "Haruhi!"_

_No reply came._

_It was a storm of unprecedented strength. Gales tore at the trees, and blows and blows of thunder shook the hospital. I rushed past the doctors, nurses, and patients, desperately searching for Haruhi. Suddenly, I realized._

_Slowly, with painful knowledge, I walked back to Kotoko's ward. The room seemed empty-_

_Until I heard fading sobs. I opened the closet, and in there was Haruhi._

_She was curled up into a ball, sobbing indiscriminate words. She flinched everytime lightening shone through the open door. I was standing in front of her._

_She was torn by Kotoko's death. Did the four year old even understand the concept of death? What made her suddenly vulnerable to lightening?_

_I stretched my hands to her shoulders, and then embraced her in the blue light. Both of us sobbed that night, both of us children, mere children without her. _

_She was afraid of lightening since then._

* * *

I flinched, torn from my reminisce as thunder struck down. Rain was dripping from my dress, and I remembered Haruhi. School would have ended hours ago, and she would now be in our house. I raced to our home.

Why was she so independent? Couldn't she vent her stress, terror, and anxiety on me for once? I hurriedly unlocked the door, and silently entered the home, expecting to find Haruhi hiding beneath the kotatsu. She was not. She was not alone, either.

She was hugging that Tamaki boy, her shoulders shaking from unsuppressed tears. It had been years since I watched her cry. I stood silently in the doorway, watching Tamaki comforting my daughter. Lightening struck again, and the two embraced each other more tightly.

Should I stop the two?

I smiled, relieved that Haruhi found someone to rely on. It was not her own father, though.

The rain was bittersweet as always.

I closed the door silently, and then walked outside.

Timeless rain showered down on me.

I, as I always did, and always would, whispered upwards, thanking her.

Time was rain, and I stood there silently, hoping that they would stay there longer.

I would inquire them later.


	2. Prologue: Glasses

He recorded everything.

He could see more than his eyes offered. When he watched others, he could see their parents, their school grades, their history, and potential profits. The myriad facts were their identities, the shadows of their entire lives—the only facts of worthy of contemplation. Sometimes those information would appear in a ghostly image on his glasses, haunting reminders of his countless notes and charts.

He could hear more than his ears offered. Ordinary, passing conversations were classified in their potential importance and stored inside. Every minute detail was crucial, every fleeting clue needed attention, and every whisper surrounding him was invaluable. If supernatural senses indeed existed, even they could not compete with his acuity.

When he stood alone in the crowd, their small actions, their multitudinous habits were a déjà vu—all predicted, all analyzed. Nothing could be unpredicted.

_The breaking of the vase._

Nothing could have escaped his predictions. The pain of prophets, the pain of tedium, and the pain of dread—the emotion impossible to overcome when some events could not be avoided…

He felt it all, and wrote all in his notes, which became more bloated and crusty, like the discarded leaves of autumn trees. They would discard their beloved leaves, the results of their labor without hesitation. The leaves would pile around them, the tragic reminders of inevitable events—as inevitable as the turning of seasons.

His notes were like fallen leaves, and they piled around him.

He was exhausted.

_And the vase broke._

When the scholarship student entered the room, he instantly recognized her gender, her school grades, and her family—her lost mother. A tingling of recognition sparkled within his heart, the effects of the lack of maternal love—he wondered. Yet he drowned the emotions, buried the unnecessary quirk within the mountains of notes.

He had never expected the vase to break.

Everything happed suddenly, yet with painful slowness. He had opened his mouth for a fleeting moment, yet had closed it instantly. It was not fit for an Ootori to display his emotions openly.

_The vase shattered into thousands of fragments, showering the marble floors with refreshing ring._

He had never expected that.

When the vase had broken, he felt a part of him freed, mounds of memorandum bursting into flames.

For a moment, he had shelved all information away, and for the first time, he saw everything clearly, freed from the burden, all the data.

However, he extinguished his rebellion, for an Ootori is nothing without information. Yet—

Yet he felt refreshed.

* * *

His father had sent his secretary outside, wishing that he was left alone for a moment. The occasional summer breeze briefly stirred the monsoon drenched leaves in the garden. The 10 year old Ootori silently gazed at his idol, peering silently through the slightly opened door.

His father silently took out a worn out picture frame. He was smiling at the worn out picture, sometimes gazing out wistfully outside the window. The boy squinted as he tried to find out who was in the picture. The woman was his mother, he recognized. He was disappointed.

How could his father show such human weaknesses, he thought.

He shook his head, denying the image that he thought, and slowly ran out, erasing the image from his mind.

7 years later, he was sitting inside the same heat of late summer. The clubroom was bursting with customers, fraternizing with the club members. His blond friend was flaunting his charms, and others were acting in their given scenarios. In the center was the sole female member of the club.

She was sitting in the center, smiling brightly to the clueless women. His forehead creased slightly for the first time. Should he tell her that he did not want her to serve the customers, that the debt was a mere guile to keep her near the group?

Or should he tell her that he was experiencing more than he never did, in the presence of the commoner? Should he tell her that when he pinned her on the bed during the summer, he was tempted for an unbearable moment?

Yet he did nothing, and directed his gaze to the cloudy sky above. And he smiled bitterly, disgusted how he was mimicking his father even in this pitiful manner, unable to express his emotions even though the opportunity was so tangible.

* * *

"Father," he said without hesitation, for he had planned the conversation for a long time. "What do you want from me?"

"What could you offer me?" the older Ootori scrutinized his son. It was early morning, and the office was inundated in silent light.

"Father, I thought that I could offer you the most profit."

His father remained silent.

"And my belief has never wavered. However," he faced his father directly for the first time. "I am uncertain."

"Uncertain about what?"

"Father, did you marry my mother according to your own emotions?" he hesitated, wondering if he asked an impertinent question. Both were silent in the office, and the morning light was filtering through the curtains.

"What do you think?" The older Ootori smiled, his stiff features loosening for a moment.

"I do not know, father. I—" he hesitated again. "I feel myself changing, and I do not know what to do."

"That is quite unusual of you, to feel this way. Especially," the man observed his son through his edged spectacles, "that you expressed this dilemma to me."

"I have always ensured that my method would bring out the most profit. I even believed that I was the man that you wanted me to become, proficient and calculating."

The younger Ootori gazed down, his round glasses reflecting the light. The glasses were passed down through the generation, but it became rounder, looser.

"She saw through me, and I felt—" he struggled to find an appropriate word, "—uncomfortable, father."

"Hmm?"

"Through her, I could see who I truly am. Until now, even though I could analyze everyone else, I could not observe myself correctly. Even though I am wearing glasses… I could not see clearly."

The glasses were the traits of his father. His emulation of his father, his idolization of his father—the past emotions shone through his glasses, now shining in the light.

"Even with these glasses, I could not see what I was…… Yet she made me realize. She cleared my vision."

"And?" the older man felt amusement, yet an unknown pride.

"She is special, I realized."

"Special indeed……" the aged man smiled.

"I am sorry, father. I could not become the man you wanted me to become."

"Kyouya……" the man rose from his seat. "I do not recall telling you that I want you to become a cold, mechanical man."

The son raised his head in surprise.

"Information can sometimes hinder one, Kyouya. The truly powerful force lies in your emotions."

After that, he walked out of his office.

The student was alone in the silent office. He took off his glasses. The early morning sun entered his bare eyes. He smiled, his eyes no longer clouded.

The spectacles hung loosely on his hand.

"Special indeed, Fujioka………" he whispered.

He recorded everything, considered everything, and calculated everything. Yet he failed to predict the breaking of the vase, and that had crumbled everything.

* * *

Hmm, I decided to include this in the Kaleidoscope.


	3. Prologue: Dilemma

It thundered that day.

Great roars, echoing from the distance, had crescendoed as the storm drew nearer. However, they were muffled by the icy windows, standing firmly within the storm, a snow storm.

A frigid fury had whipped the city.

Jagged lights crisscrossed the grey air as blizzard spiraled past. Cars were abandoned in the sidewalk in a beautiful, haunting disarray, and everything was grayish white, like a faded photograph.

She could hear nothing.

Windows, ice spiraling on their cracked surface, threatened to unhinge, and the girl squinted tighter, her tiny hands covering her ears. She could hear nothing, and she could see nothing.

_Who dare seeks refuge within the ice chamber._

Her face was completely dry, her lachrymal glands long forgotten their duty. Never did she cry, and her tears trickled inside, within her consciousness where it inundated into a pond.

_A pond, where silver lightening silently shrieks, where silence reigns._

Another lightening struck, barely avoiding the house. And her mother came.

Silently, gracefully, eerily, she glided down from the lightening struck heavens. Her white robes fluttered in the storm, oblivious to the frigid ice. She passed through the glasses, her silver pupils boring into the girl's form.

The girl hesitantly peeked outside, gazing into the ghost's eyes.

"Mother…?"

She smiled, and stretched her hands. Lightening struck once more, and her mother's flesh slowly melted, revealing a skeleton. Yellow light from the lightening danced on the skull's surface. It cackled.

The girl slid backwards, her eyes open in silent shock, listening to the harsh, incessant cackle of the ghost.

"Look!" The skeleton wheezed. Figures, amorphous figures spiraled into the corner, revealing the torsos of the twins. The girl did not understand why the faces were familiar—she should not be—not in this age, not now—

The two were fighting, screaming out insults and scowls. They were nearly identical, but the girl could narrowly distinguish their features. The girl flinched. The skeleton grinned triumphantly.

"What can you do?" it asked. The girl remained silent. "What would you do for them?"

Another figure emerged out of the darkness. She looked familiar, her short hair slightly bristling as she smacked the twins. She seemed to yell something at the two, and the twins smiled back. The fight seemed to be resolved, and the three were smiling together. Who was she?

"Is that what you want to do? Is that all?" the skull spat out.

The girl gazed at the ghost, the skeleton, her _mother_.

"How much can I do?" she asked.

"Nothing, nothing, fool!" the skeleton shrieked, its pale surface vibrating in silent laughter. It shook until it disintegrated, powders of bone swirling around the room, finally turning into a blizzard. A snowstorm enveloped the room.

"Who would dare seek refuge in the ice chamber? Who would dare seek refuge in the ice chamber? You are the ice chamber!"

The girl did not cry, blankly gazing into the storm that was her mother, or was it? Another stream of tears flowed into her inner pool.

_A pond, where silver lightening silently shrieks, where snowstorms gather._

"Haruhi!"

She woke up, breathing rapidly. She looked around the room, slowly realizing her situation; she was in the clubroom, a high school student.

Clouds were gathering in the distance, and the campus was already half deserted. Most of the customers had left, and the host club members were silently sipping tea.

"Haruhi, are you okay?" the yellow haired upperclassman gazed with concern.

"Yes, yes, I suppose."

She scratched her head lightly, recovering from the daze.

"Haruhi, did you cry? Your eyes are all—"

"No, senpai." She denied. She never cried, for crying would be a weakness, and weakness brings dependence. He need not know. Her inner rigidness, her callousness repelled others; no one truly knew her. No one had entered her ice chamber, her mental consciousness.

Ignoring the curious glances of other members, Fujioka Haruhi shuffled to the windowsill.

She was Haruhi. Fujioka Haruhi—the name inherited from her father, the name that followed her for 16 years. She was following her mother's steps. Studying, aspiring, contemplating, and becoming a lawyer…

"Fujioka Haruhi…" she whispered. An endless cycle circled around her thoughts. Haruhi, Kotoko, Haruhi, Kotoko, Haruhi, Kotoko………

It was a cherished yet dreaded heritage—to follow her mother's steps.

_What could she do for them?_

It was a dilemma commonly faced by lawyers—the question of the degree of intervention. How much could they do for their clients? How much should they offer?

Haruhi looked around the room. Her gaze shifted from the troubled blue eyes to the senior currently occupied in eating sweets. She slowly diverted her gaze to the terse senior, then to the sophomore typing on his laptop, then finally to the twins.

_What would she do? How much could she do?_

Smiling gently, she brushed her hair back, mimicking the few, precious actions of her mother, remaining firmly in her thoughts.

She was herself and her mother, and as long as she lived within this world, both she and her mother would be cherished.

There were clouds gathering in the distance.

She was frozen, never opening up to others, in the fear that her inner pond would splash out, flooding all, repelling the few that she truly loved.


End file.
